The End Of That Beg-in-ni-ng Exhausted. Im exhausted of the tape. It replays and replays some more. The cassette mutes it sometimes, but it jolts and back to #life, the notes play death. It replays and replays some more. His voice. It echoes in the drums of my ears. He is there. "I never loved you" "You're a slag" "You dont deserve anthing you little tart" And yet this tape replays. I wanted those notes to take over. To stop that tape, to stop my heart. No. Break my heart some more. "Ive found happiness again" in two months after the gift of the tape. He is happy. Im not. Im exhausted. Im alone. Im hungry for nothing. Im lost of appetite. The tape shows in my skin. It beats through my bones, making the skin grip in fright. Losing stones and pounds, food not on my side. It replays and replays some more. "Four months of my #life wasted with a slut" The tape is now sped up. It scarring me. My casette is achy, my ears are banging. With his voice, with myself. It replays and replays some more... Snap! The tape breaks. A phone call, anger pulses. It twists and turns in the empty casette. I rage and i go above the notes of that never-ending and never-stopping tape. Im free... Im surrounded by love. Im not alone. And I can make my own melody, on a new tape in the cassette. On my casseste.